


The Moth Don't Care If The Flame Is Real

by redfiona



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bisexual Character, Future Fic, M/M, Original Male Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfiona/pseuds/redfiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-five years into the future some things have changed.  Is Randy willing to move with the times or is there something holding him back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moth Don't Care If The Flame Is Real

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes/Spoilers: I started writing this 5 years ago, so a few things don't quite fit with how things have actually played out. Title from 'The Moth' by Aimee Mann.

Author: Red Fiona

Disclaimer: All characters recognisable as WWE characters belong to WWE and themselves. Victor is an original character who is therefore mine, I suppose. No money being made. This is not real and has nothing to do with real life, it is fiction.

~~~~

Victor had won yet another match, and Randy held his arm up in triumph. They walked off to the usual mixture of booing and female adoration. Randy couldn't really blame the crowd for either reaction, Victor was a young stud and he worked hard for those boos. He had it all really; strength, a great body and the sort of brooding good looks the girls always seemed to go for. Randy half expected him to go find a dark corner to lean in, moodily, but Victor preferred the heady delights of basketball, going to the gym and listening to something that he called music, a claim Randy wasn't convinced of.

He really was turning into his Dad or worse still... other people.

"Hey, I managed to snag tickets to see Limp Bizkit's reunion tour. Wanna come along?"

"No thanks."

"Come on. I mean I thought they were big when you were..." Victor's voice trailed off.

"Younger is the word you're trying not to say. And maybe they were, but once you've seen them play at Wrestlemania when you're on it too they kind of lose their edge."

"Wow, you've done that, haven't you? Completely forgot."

Randy didn't believe him; Victor probably chose the band deliberately because he thought Randy might know them. He didn't know a thing about what he called "oldie's music" so choosing a band he'd seen on old wrestling tapes would have made sense to him. But Randy felt he had the start of a good excuse to get out of going. It might put Victor off. "Not my scene really, it never was. You go, take Carl with you. He might like it."

"If you're sure."

Randy wasn't sure, he would have liked to go to a gig, see if they were anything like he remembered, see if Limp Bizkit were any good all these years later - he doubted they would be, the Rolling Stones they weren't - but he knew he had to try and turn Victor off at the pass. "I'm sure. Go enjoy yourself. Don't worry about me; I'll catch up with Batista."

"See you tomorrow then." Victor swooped in for a kiss on the cheek and moved away quickly before Randy could smack him in return. Randy ought to have been prepared; the kid did that sort of thing a lot.

Once Victor was gone, Randy slumped on to the bench. He thought that had gone as well as it could have done. Victor was getting harder to evade, the boy wanted him for some reason and didn't take well to no for an answer. He'd call and see if Dave had any ideas on how to stop him. That was the best thing about having shows in Connecticut, they were close to headquarters where Dave worked now, having got a second wind as an organiser of the highest calibre. As though anyone who had been in the original Evolution could be anything other than brilliant.

~~~~

Victor and Carl were skimming stones after the gig.

"It's just really weird, you know."

"But he's being okay with you the rest of the time." Carl had been out injured for the last month and had missed the latest about what was happening with Victor. Sure, they could have tweeted and texted, but after what happened with James, they were all paranoid about people intercepting electronic communications.

"Oh yeah, you couldn't ask for a better mentor, I don't know how I got lucky enough that he was interested in taking me under his wing. It's just that he seems to be holding something back."

"All this worrying just because he's not taking you up on your offers. Ever thought he might just be straight, or you know, doesn't think you're attractive."

"Come on, who could resist me?" Victor threw another stone. "And no one that kisses me back like that is entirely straight."

"So you finally kissed him!" To Carl's knowledge, Victor had been planning that for six months.

"Yeah. I mean, the champagne was flowing after I won the IC belt and I didn't think I'd get another chance."

"And?"

"And the man can really kiss. Like you wouldn't believe. But he stopped me before I could get any further."

"But that's not going to stop you."

"It hasn't so far."

~~~~

"It's just really weird." Randy was sitting on the porch at Batista's house.

Batista brought out another beer. "So you keep saying."

"There's no reason he should be interested in me. I mean yeah, I'm still good looking, damn good looking if you think about it, but I'm old enough to be his father." Batista tried to find a way of saying that that hadn't stopped Randy without mentioning things that all concerned agreed never to mention again. "That boy should be thinking of these things with people his own age."

"He probably does. From the way you make him sound, he's like you were."

"I did not. Okay, maybe I did. Was I really that bad?"

"Worse. You were obsessed." Dave laughed. "I only know because you two were far too fond of public displays of affection."  
Batista saw Randy flinch. "He did love you. It just..."

"Don't try and defend him. Don't you ever dare try." Randy could keep up his game face in front of the fans and the cameras, even in his new book, but he was damned if he was going to play nice with Dave who had been there.

"I'm sorry Randy." He had been apologising for his actions for thirty years now, and there was still no end in sight.

The apology hung in the air for a few minutes before either spoke again.

"Maybe you should take him up on one of his offers."

"What?" Dave had finally lost it.

"Maybe he's one of these people where the thrill is in the chase. Maybe if you say yes once the thrill will wear off."

"Mmm." Randy stared off into the distance. "There's only one problem." Randy looked to be opening up, something he didn't do easily with Dave, not even after all these years. It made him look more like the kid Dave first met thirty odd years ago. "His eyes. They're the exactly the same as Ric's, same colour, same gleam." Same single-minded intent. "When I look into them, I don't see Victor, I see Ric, even after all these years." Randy wished his only feeling was anger, the therapy had taught him how to deal with rage. "Even if I was thinking of saying yes, that wouldn't be fair to Victor."

"At least if you know that it's there you can work around it. I mean, it's not like you're attached right now." That Randy definitely wasn't. "So you say yes and see where it goes from there."

~~~~

"I'm just, wow, you know amazed that you said yes." Randy was getting a kick from this, Victor, whose public persona was cool and measured, was falling over himself just because Randy agreed to go out for a meal.

It had only been one meal, but that lead to another and another. It wasn't like they didn't eat together during the day anyway, they even travelled together to some places, less now that Carl was back, but for some reason Victor liked spending the extra time with him. Randy tried to keep things friendly, but not too friendly. Victor ignored that, sitting far too close to be anything but flirtatious, not that Randy would normally be uncomfortable with that; it was just that Randy wanted to do things with Victor that he knew he probably shouldn't do, and he didn't want Victor to know that.

So much for Batista's theory. Randy hadn't really believed it any more than Dave had. So why had he agreed - because it had given him an excuse to say yes? Victor was very attractive; he just broke Randy's rules about getting involved with guys in the business. And now what: carry on, go further or beat a speedy retreat. The last option was out of the question, he wasn't an eight time world champion by chickening out of things. No, he would face this head on.

That night he let himself be talked into going up to Victor's room with him, ostensibly for a coffee. Randy was trying to work up to the subject when Victor said something first.

"I want to sleep with you." Okay, quite a big something first.

"What, scared the monsters under the bed might get you?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"You weren't even born the last time I slept with a guy, kid, whatever makes you think I would want to sleep with you." There was no point in hiding what Victor had guessed already. Plus, there wasn't really any shame in that kind of thing for him anymore, well, not if no one found out about it, and he sensed that Victor understood the rules. Tell no one, admit nothing and give no details.

"Whoa, long time to go without."

"What's this 'go without'? There's been a whole lot of pussy in between." Victor looked at him blankly. "Chicks, you know, tits, pussy, mouths like you wouldn't believe. I married three of them." Still nothing. "So it was you that turned Natalie down. I knew someone had, but I would have thought you had more sense. If she offers again send her my way, I am not going to turn her down." That girl was hot, not as hot as Trish had been, but then who was.

"Why would I do that if I'm sleeping with you?"

"Back to that again."

"What can I say, I'm persistent." Victor moved Randy's cup to the further end of the table and then sat in Randy's lap and kissed him. Randy joined in. Maybe Dave was right and getting laid was no bad thing.

"Before this goes any further, I'd like to make a few things clear."

"If this is where you tell me you don't believe in sex before marriage or some similar institution I am going to be so pissed."

Randy had to laugh. "Nothing like that. First I'd like it clear that we both go into this knowing that it means nothing and that I will fuck you over for the belt without thinking about it." Victor nodded. "Secondly, I am going to fuck you into that mattress so hard that you will scream my name for more. I'm going to make you see stars."

"That I'm definitely in favour of."

Victor's suit jacket fell crumpled to the floor amidst the touching and kissing. It was no way to treat Armani but right now Victor didn't care, he just wanted to get closer to Randy.

Randy used Victor's tie to pull him onto the bed. His fingers slipped between the buttons of Victor's shirt and undid it as quickly as possible. Victor made quicker work of Randy's shirt, but he had had more recent practise.

Their trousers would have followed just as quickly but Randy stopped Victor's hand on his belt.

"Whoa there, tiger. Where do you keep the condoms and lube?"

"They're in my wash bag." Which was, unfortunately, in the bathroom. "I'll go get them."

Victor came back with the bag and with an awkward, mildly embarrassed look on his face. "That kind of killed the moment, didn't it?"

"Come and sit down. I'm sensing that between us we might be able to get it started again."

Randy started kissing Victor's neck, taking in the softness of his skin, the youthful elasticity of it that had long since gone from Randy's own and that he'd never felt the last time he'd done this.

Their kissing grew more frantic.

"Kid, you might want to turn over."

"But I want to see you."

"I can barely remember the last time I did this, so let's do it the easy way."

"I could show you were everything goes."

"Not tonight, kid." Victor still wasn't moving so Randy decided to play dirty and moved his hands a little.

"Oh God! Do that again!"

"Sure, turn over and I'll do something even better." It was a dirty trick, his third wife used to do it to him. She was a bitch but the minute she did that thing with her hands he was putty in her fingers, not caring too much about whatever else she had done as long as she kept doing that. Through long and studious watching of a large number of repetitions he learnt the trick to doing it, and wasn't afraid to use it.

Victor did has he was told, no one was immune.

Before he started lubing Victor up Randy trailed kisses up his back, the kid was a lot more tense than he was letting on and so was Randy. He really didn't want to hurt Victor and at the same time he didn't want to be a letdown.

He started to gently run his hand along Victor's dick, which seemed to loosen him up a little, and made him make some fun noises. They only increased in pitch when Randy started to prepare Victor with his fingers.

When he thought that Victor was suitably prepared, and he felt ready to actually do this, Randy took out his three fingers and put on the condom. No going back now. Then again, there'd been no going back for some time now. He went in as slowly as he could, Ric had never hurt him, not when they were fucking anyway, and he wasn't going to hurt Victor.

Victor didn't seem to agree with this game plan, he was pushing back for all that he was worth.

"Hey, Vic, I don't know about you, but I was planning on enjoying myself, and I can't do that if you decide to sprint to the line." That slowed Victor down somewhat. He didn't want to ruin it for the kid but this would take some time to get used to.

Slowly, Randy found his rhythm. Victor got interested again and bucked back causing Randy to be driven deeper into him. Randy brought Victor up onto his knees. It was more comfortable, plus it meant that Randy could stroke Victor's dick to the same rhythm, while running his hands over Victor. Touching Victor would have been a small joy in and of itself, even if Randy hadn't been fucking him, but feeling Victor tensing and relaxing underneath him, and knowing that he was the cause of it, that was something else.

They moved faster and faster, both now incapable of keeping to any resemblance of a rhythm. Next time, Randy found himself thinking, next time I'm going to do this properly, slowly and thoroughly. When had he decided on there being a next time?

Still they moved. Randy forgot everything except his urge to move deeper and deeper into Victor, to push himself over the edge into climaxing. The first time he'd done this he'd been on the receiving end, nervous as a sixteen year old schoolgirl for all that he was twenty three and something of a stud. But this was new, new even if you considered some teenage fooling around that never really got past mutual hand jobs and a promise of a blow job from the quarterback that he wasn't even sure he'd actually heard. But there he was, his ass was about to lose its cherry and he was nervous for all that he wanted to do it. Understandably, he thought. And there was Ric, plying him with Courvoisier, making everything about it seem so relaxed. Ric was perfect - considerate and temperate, and from then on Randy never could believe the tales of bleeding deflowered virgins. He would have been kind and slow and they would still have been screaming his name three days later, Randy nearly was. It wasn't like what he was doing with Victor, where he was thrusting as hard as he could, satisfying the young man's request for more. With Ric, the first time, to start out with anyway, it had felt weird. Not bad exactly, but more bad than good. He'd wondered if that was what it felt like for girls, it might explain all the lesbians. Ric had moved slowly, stroked Randy's side, played with his dick, and it moved on to not being that bad. Anything that involved someone who wasn't you having their hand on your dick definitely counted as not that bad. Still, even it being Ric that was the one doing it to him apart, and oh how that made up for an awful lot, it still wasn't as much fun as fucking girls.

And then wow, blinding lights and fireworks!

Later, when he'd sorted out the geography of the area, he knew that all that Ric had done was touched his prostate. 'All' didn't seem like a big enough word. 'All' had been enough to reduce his knees to jelly, turned his brain to mush and make him Ric Flair's bitch for the next year.

Now after the fireworks, then it was as much fun as fucking girls.

Ric kept him there, that dizzy, rushing, almost painful ecstatic place just before you come, for what seemed like hours. A never-ending plane of far-too-close to bliss but not near enough. And then, finally, gratefully received, the shivering cold of an orgasm hit, like the Hoover dam bursting. It had been incredible.

The clock later told him that altogether, including groping, warming up and a few moments of post-coital disorientation it had lasted for fifteen minutes. But time and relative time never really match up do they, 'cause when he'd come and Victor had come a little later, and they'd wiped up and landed exhausted in bed, Randy had caught a glimpse of the clock and somehow all that frenzy, seemingly quick, had taken half an hour or thereabouts.

He really had been exhausted, which was why he was confused and vaguely annoyed when he woke up at four o'clock in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep, whatever he did. He planned on blaming it on Victor's presence, hotel beds weren't designed for two people, even when they were doubles that claimed they were. Randy just wasn't used to sleeping in a bed with someone, couldn't remember the last time he had done. Probably four years before. That sounded about right, ex-wife number three stopped sleeping with him about a year before she served the divorce papers, waiting for that extra year so one of the pre-nup conditions had been fulfilled. He hadn't noticed for about six months and didn't care once he had. Wife number three had probably been a mistake. The one night stands mostly went during the night, or he went when he woke up before they did. Either way, having his own bed, blessedly free from human obstruction, was something he was used to.

But there Victor was. In his bed. Okay, so in reality, he was in Victor's bed, but never mind, he was sharing a bed. Victor was soundly asleep. Like Randy should have been, but he just couldn't fall back asleep. Victor looked shockingly young in the half-light. Randy didn't think he'd ever looked that young, he'd never been quite so easy in his sleep, always plotting the next move. That came from being in Evolution, they were the top of the game and you couldn't stay there without lots of hard work.

If he wanted to get any sleep the easiest thing to do would have been to go to his own room. But then there would have been a scene tomorrow, or sulking, or any of the other emotional outpourings he was trying to avoid. Victor was a good kid; he didn't need to have his head messed with right now. Plus the sex had been good, and if he'd pissed him off now, Randy would probably have to sweet talk his way back between the kid's legs. That was the one power he'd always had over Ric, he could cross his legs and Ric could go whistle. Problem was he never could stay angry at Ric for more than ten minutes, until ... things that had happened and then he managed thirty years. The most sensible option was to just turn over and try to sleep.

Randy had a pleasant awakening the next morning. He was at that nice, warm, comfortable state when you could feel everything and had another half an hour to enjoy it. But first he was going to enjoy Victor kissing him, 'cause the kid could kiss. There was no look of amazement in Victor's eyes so Randy knew that Victor, like him, was the one that did the walking. The only look that was in his eyes was early morning lust, and they proceeded to make use of that until ten thirty when they really had to be out of bed.

He could barely believe the months that followed. They were nice, for want of a better word, like he didn't have to fight his way through everything. He didn't know if people were becoming more reasonable or if coming back to his room every night with Victor gave him something to look forward to or what, all he knew is that his blood pressure was at a reasonable level for the first time in years and he wasn't totally grouchy all the time.

Quite the opposite in fact, he spent so much time smiling his cheeks ached, and he was having fun. They drove down the highway together, music blaring out of the stereo and making out at every rest stop along the way. When that was threatened by one of those big muscle bound idiots who couldn't wrestle to save their lives dropping Victor on his shoulder, nearly ruling him out for a month at least, Randy pulled all the strings he could to get that guy sent down to Superstars for the rest of the year. No one hurt Victor, not while he was there. Even when it was just a storyline thing, the faces finally getting some revenge in on Victor, he got so angry that he nearly blew a gasket. The commentators, that Matthews kid and some punk who'd barely retired, made some comment about not having seen anyone so red since Ric so he smashed them for good measure. As though he was anything like Ric. Best of all he didn't get into any trouble for it, the office said it had added to the realism of the scene. The only person who didn't like it was Matthews, whose nose dripped blood at Randy accusingly.

Unfortunately it was Missouri next, and he knew what that meant, even if the kid didn't. The night before they arrived, Randy briefed him.

"Have you ever heard any of the Missouri stories?"

Victor shook his head. "No."

"Probably just as well, I don't come out too well in them." Victor looked worried. "I did some bad things when I was younger, and some of them come back to bite me in the ass when we get to Missouri. Basically I just want you to roll with what happens. Don't try and stop anything, just let it happen. I deserve it."

And sure enough, there she was, Joy had got past security again, and once again he got one hell of a slap across the face.

"What the hell?" Victor said looking at the red mark already forming on Randy's face.

"Don't worry about it; I'm just glad that she never learnt how to punch properly." Randy laughed quietly, and touched his face gingerly. "Just get me an ice-pack while I go convince those officers of the law to let her go."

Victor watched him go with a shake of his head. Any bitch who slapped him like that would be at some bull-dyke's mercy before the day was out.

Randy came back three quarters of an hour later, job done, to a waiting ice-pack which had warmed up too much to be of much use, not that it would have been anyway, so long after the smack. Randy still half-heartedly put the ice-pack against his face. "I'm going to have to tell make-up that they're going to need to spend some more time on me than usual." It probably would bruise, knowing his luck. At least Victor waited till they were somewhere private before bursting out with all the questions he wanted to ask.

"What was all that about?"

"Ancient history." Victor didn't ask again, he just cocked his eyebrows. "Really, it's not anything interesting."

"Come on!"

"You mean you've never done anything totally stupid that's come back on you later."

"Yeah, but that normally that just meant I couldn't go to specific malls, not that some chick is going to come up and hit me."

"You really need to work on your level of stupid then, son." Or really, 'don't do anything quite as stupid as I did'.

And then of course they got to Baltimore and Stacy was there. Of course he couldn't blame her, what with it being her hometown. And of course the fans wanted to see her because she had been a star and because the old girl was holding up well. So she was there, backstage and Randy was trying to be anywhere but there. The kid understood it, well kind of, this time - who wanted to see their ex-wife? -, but Randy doubted that Victor could tell exactly why he didn't want to see Stacy. Maybe for the first time ever, Randy felt he really ought to say sorry. He should never have left her for wife number two, but at the time it seemed like a good thing to do. It wasn't like Stacy needed him, she'd got her own separate fortune and they'd both signed pre-nups, and she wasn't quite as sparky as she had been when he'd first met her, then this young bendy little thing started working for the company and he popped a woody every time she walked past. Having her was easy enough. By that stage, looking back on it now, he was coming to the end of the period where he was king of the world but he was still a major catch for a girl who wanted fame and money any way she could get it. So she got it, any time he wanted. Their first time had been in the office of the MSG manager, she'd been bent over a desk and he came like a fountain. She was tight and saucy, and didn't spend her time dropping heavy hints about babies the way Stacy did. After about a year of this, he divorced Stacy and married Sheila. That had been a heavy couple of years. And the marriage had stuck, because Sheila stayed hot and saucy and didn't want children. So okay he wasn't too sorry about leaving Stacy, she'd landed on her feet like he'd guessed she would, but he felt bad about the way he'd left her. Admittedly, not as badly as he felt about leaving Sheila. Fuck knew why he'd left her for wife number three, mid-life crisis or something. If Randy had his time over, that came second on the list of things he wouldn't do again.

Feeling badly was one thing though, knowing how to apologise was another, and he really didn't want an awkward scene, not on something that was supposed to be Stacy's big day of the year, wrestling-wise. One of these days he had work out how to apologise properly, but until he did, he'd just carry on avoiding her.

Of course that didn't work. Things in his life didn't. He got put on the same autograph table as her, by some ass who either didn't think or thought that it was funny. Shit happened; thankfully they were on better terms than they used to be. Still, it was awkward. It was scribble, scribble, make polite chatter. Eventually, of course, people had their taste for nostalgia sated and there was no waiting queue for them. Damn, he had to talk to her.

"Stacy,"

"What's her name?"

"Who?"

"Whoever it is you're screwing. And regularly too." Randy felt what he knew was a blush creeping up his face, and he never blushed, least not of all about the people sharing his bed. "Don't look so shocked, I was with you for twelve years on and off, I know what you look like when you're getting laid regularly."

Randy ummed for a few moments. "Well it's not, it's not..."

"It's got to be better than what's her name,"

"Er,"

"Oh don't try and pretend that you're that polite about her. I still know people in the business so I know all about the divorce."

"Yeah, about that, I'm sorry about, well, everything."

Stacy's lips quirked into a smile. "That has to be the lousiest apology ever, but I accept it. And anyway, splitting up meant I got to marry a nice guy, have the kids, get a job," filling the Martha Stewart gap, "and everything else I ever wanted. What've you got, except two sets of alimony payments?" Why couldn't his first wife have been a dumb blonde, God knew the other two were dumber, the last bitch especially, her chest size was bigger than her IQ. She knew what lawyers to employ though.

"I'm glad you're happy."

"I am. I'm pleased to see you've got someone decent in your life again, finally." She cocked her head and looked at Randy. "Don't look so worried. If she was really all that bad, then Dave would have put his foot down about it already." That was true; Batista liked Stacy, didn't like Sheila to begin with but warmed to her, and flatly refused to let number three in his house. And Dave had encouraged him with Victor, whatever his actual words were; Dave hadn't tried to stop him.

Someone came over to their table asking for their signatures. "Sure thing," Stacy smiled at the kid, "always pleased to help."

And she had helped. Randy hadn't even noticed that he had some misgivings about this thing, because it was fun, it was fancy free, it was all he could possibly want, but he was also starting to become aware that this was his longest relationship in ten years, and with either of their track records it wasn't as though it was unlikely that one of them would get itchy feet. That was what was really worrying him, he wasn't getting itchy feet. He was starting to feel himself expecting Victor's presence in his hotel room, in his bed. Expectations were always disappointed. He'd disappointed enough people in his life, been disappointed once. He really hadn't liked it. Be the one that leaves, not the one that's left, that was his motto. Never let anyone get too close. He was finding that the kid was getting far too near to far too close. He had this way about him, not innocent, from the stories Victor told he hadn't been innocent since he was thirteen, but slightly less fucked up than the rest of them. He was interested in things, life in general, viewed it all as experience, which okay could get wearing at a three a.m. layover in some airport in New Jersey that wasn't even on the map, but it was fun to be around, refreshing after years of this repetitive hamster wheel. Victor was serious about his wrestling, but it wasn't the only thing he was into. It made for an interesting life.

But a dangerous one.

Given some of the disasters that he'd gotten himself into, he had to trust to Dave's judgement.

So he asked Dave to invite them for a meal, just so Dave could check Victor out. And Dave did, which is what a good friend should do, and Dave was the best he had.  
~~~~  
Victor was surprised that he was invited to a meal at the house of well, he wasn't even sure what to call him, because David Batista was so very important backstage and, while he'd said to call him Dave, Victor still had to bite back the urge to call him 'sir'.

That wasn't the only surprising thing; he'd been invited as Randy's plus one. The reason for his surprise was that Randy had asked him to keep their relationship quiet, and as far as anyone was concerned they were just teacher and student. Victor hadn't objected. He was willing to leave it up to Randy, him being from a different time and all. Victor's own orientation was an open secret; he'd never denied anything but there'd been no great big coming out parade either. It had never been a problem, certainly not after he'd beaten a guy black and blue for making it one. Violence might not be the answer, but it often looked very like it.

Victor had asked what was going on and, more importantly, what he was supposed to be presenting himself as, and all Randy had said was that Batista already knew all of Randy's secrets, and that, anyway, Batista was the person least likely to freak-out about this anyway. Still, Randy's usual reticence made the invite seem strange and Victor went not knowing why he'd been invited or quite what to expect.

It wasn't a fancy meal, Dave used it as an excuse to get out his barbeque and they ate steak and drank weak beer under a humid summer sky. Dave was just coming back to the swing chair on the porch with more beer from the kitchen refrigerator, but he couldn't help but wait at the door. Victor and Randy were making out and they did make a sweet couple. Dave was glad, it was one of the few times he'd seen Randy happy in a long time. He'd been happy with Stacy and Sheila, and Dave still couldn't see why Randy hadn't stayed with either them. But then again he did know. Ric totally screwed Randy up when he'd left him.

Dave still felt guilty about that. He hadn't known, of course, how badly Randy would get hurt. So he had carried on working with Hunter and Ric, but always keeping one eye open after what happened, if they could do that to Randy, their chosen heir, what would they do to him; a muscle head who got lucky. But he couldn't do that for long, it wasn't him. So he'd quit the business, as an active wrestler, after about ten years, he found backstage work much more to his liking, he could cope with the politics better when he only had to be two-faced half the time. Still, it had taken those ten years before Randy spoke to him again; properly spoke, not just when they had to because of a scene or something. It was after Dave had his official in-ring send off. There'd been a party after the emotional speeches in the ring, and there were some emotional speeches in the back too. Somehow, in between shaking hands and telling stories and doing his best not to well up with tears 'cause God, he was going to miss this, he'd managed to have a talk with Randy, tried to explain how he hadn't know about Hunter's plan, but he hadn't seen any way of not going along with it either and that he was sorry.

Although Randy didn't exactly blank him, he didn't accept his apology either, but when Dave had had to go backstage at a show, about a month later, Randy started speaking to him again. It wasn't about anything major, just general disgruntlement at the way his life was, but Dave felt damn good, speaking to him again. He'd missed Randy. Missed him a lot.

And now he was supposed to check Victor out, to make sure that he was suitable, that Victor wouldn't hurt Randy, even if Randy hadn't asked for that second check. Not that Randy would listen to him, whatever he said and whatever Randy said about listening. Dave had warned him about the slut, but did Randy listen ... no. It was the nearest they'd come to a real argument since the big one. Dave had compromised, said he'd hold his tongue if Randy didn't bring her to Dave's house. It all worked out, well, as well as it could, the bitch had divorced Randy after a couple of years and, since neither of them had been at all faithful, the alimony wasn't too big.

The other problem being that he had no idea how to make sure of Victor's suitability. Women he was good at reading, got used to it, knowing which of Randy's girlfriends would last a longer distance and which were one-week-onlys. He'd only known what Randy was like when he was with one guy and Ric was the total opposite of what Randy liked in women - bendy, pliable and easily replaced. There was only one Ric Flair and there were thousands of vacuous, plastic blonds of the type that Randy liked - although Dave had noticed that Randy did tend towards blondes that edged towards the platinum of Ric's hair. That was one difference; the kid had nearly jet black hair. Maybe Randy was finally getting over his thing for blonds.

The kid seemed decent enough, it wasn't like Dave knew him personally or anything, but he'd never heard a word said against him, not by any of the guys in the back, not by management, not even by Hunter or Little Vince. But he was so young, and the parallels to Ric and Randy freaked Dave out. He couldn't explain why, because Randy wasn't Ric, Ric never seemed to get hurt by the things he did, but Randy did, even if he didn't show it, or rather, even if he didn't think he showed it because goodness knows that he did. Ric wouldn't have spent six months trying not to get laid by the kid, he'd have got him drunk and fucked him, and dealt with whatever happened when it happened, and mostly avoid the bad things by not giving a damn about them or anyone who got hurt.

The kid wasn't Randy either, Victor had had a much more normal life, hadn't been in the army, hadn't started wrestling for the WWE as early as Randy and seemed to have had far more experience in stable relationships than Randy had. Randy had had girlfriends at that age, far more than Victor had had, but they were always very fast affairs, wine, dine, screw and leave. That was what probably left him vulnerable to Ric, who was the only person who'd held Randy's interest after the sex and so was probably the first person Randy had ever been with seriously.

And then Ric did that to Randy!

Dave really should have hit Ric harder when he'd had the chance, because it was now thirty years later and Randy was still screwed up over it, and Dave was still pissed off about it. You just didn't do things like that. But thinking about it wasn't going to help his blood pressure. He wasn't sure what he could do instead of thinking about it, there was nowhere for him to go except for back into the house and he'd run out of things to do in there. He didn't want to go back outside either, because, well, there were things friends didn't want to see their friends doing and whatever Randy was doing with the kid on the swing chair undoubtedly came under that heading. There had to be a limit to what they were doing, like there'd be no sex on someone else's chair, right? Hopefully. Even Randy had to know that there were bounds to hospitality. That was the other problem, as the host, Dave really couldn't spend the entire night hiding inside. He just needed a killer line to announce that he was coming out so they could adjust themselves for company.

"Friends don't go further than second base on other friend's furniture."

"Yeah, but good friends remember to forget any social mistakes their friends make." Randy stole a potato chip from the bowl that Dave was carrying.

There was general gossiping, all very light, because the kid was too terrified to say much in case he said the wrong things, and Dave didn't think they needed to be told about the office toner war, and Randy was still bitter about things that happened fifteen years ago and that was all that he talked about. Eventually Randy excused himself to go to the toilet, which left Dave with a really awkward conversation to continue. Because he was supposed to be evaluating this boy for Randy, but Randy wouldn't ever forgive him if he let that slip to Victor. So how was he going to do this?

"So how's life?"

"Can't complain." Victor shrugged, and Dave was once again forced to see the major problem with this. The kid really couldn't complain - not only was Dave a major cog in the WWE wheel, he was also, and had been singled out as, one of Randy's personal friends. He must have been terrified that anything he said that even slightly annoyed Dave would cause his downfall, and there was no way, or time, for Dave to show him otherwise. He also didn't think he'd be able to get Victor drunk enough to check that way.

"So, what are you into?"

"Stuff. Just the usual. Music. Cars."

When Randy came back from the toilet, they were still talking about cars, carburettors and drive shafts and other things that Randy had never needed to understand. Dave saw him standing there and changed the subject back to more general topics. When Victor went to the toilet, Randy asked Dave his opinion.

"Well, he knows his cars."

"Not what I was asking."

"He seems like a nice kid. How the fuck am I supposed to know? You're fifty-four years old; surely you should know what you want."

"I don't know."

~~~~

What Dave had said was almost a ringing endorsement. It was as ringing as Dave was ever going to give. Randy wasn't sure if it was what he wanted to hear. If Dave had said no, Victor was a terrible man and Randy shouldn't have anything more to do with him, it would at least have given Randy a definite plan to follow. As it was he was playing this by ear, and it rankled.

However, it was probably a sign that this was going well, at least on Randy's end, that he was that pissed off about plans to move Victor to Smackdown. It would nominally have been a move up the card, but it was Smackdown, who cared who headlined the B-show. No, RAW was where you wanted to be if you wanted a career and Randy wanted one for Victor. He also wanted him to be available whenever Randy wanted him to be about.

He'd gone into the office to talk about it, where talk meant argue his case, and he did, more fiercely than he'd ever done for anyone that wasn't him.

He thought he'd convinced them until Little Vince chased out of the room after him. Little Vince, or Vincent Helmsley to give him his full name, only male heir of Hunter Hearst of that same line, more commonly known as that poor bastard son of a bitch. No one was ever quite sure whether to hate him because he was dick, and a powerful control-freak of a dick at that, or to feel sorry for him because there was no way he was going to turn out normal with his parents. Anyway, the kid was more or less in charge of RAW day to day while Mommy and Daddy looked after the company overall.

"Yeah."

"No need for the attitude, I was coming out here thinking that we might have something for Victor."

"Does that something involve Smackdown?"

"No, no it doesn't." Well, that was a surprise.

"Can I ask what it is then?"

"The IC belt." Little Vince saw Randy's reaction. "There's no need for that look. I have plans for that belt. Personal plans." There was a horse you ought to back. Little Vince and Hunter had started having regular fallings-out, and Vince normally won them. Daddy had created a monster. Safest thing was to go along with it and then disclaim all knowledge if it did go wrong.

Now he just had to justify it to Victor.

~~~~

It hadn't gone well.

"I was next in line for a shot ... if not directly then the minute that Joe's done with Mark, and okay, Chris and Chris. But at least I have a chance, this is a step down." Victor threw his things down onto the hotel bed. He was in a pissy mood, that much was plain.

"Normally I'd agree but Little Vince has a plan, and I think this one will work."

"Notice it's my career you're risking."

"Remember it's me who got you here, I'm going to make you a champion, Victor."

The kid still didn't believe him, and Randy couldn't make him understand that if he himself couldn't have the belt, and who'd give a half broken down man like him a shot, then he'd rather his apprentice have it.

"You know I only want what's best for you."

"Yeah." Victor kissed him. "Still feels like I'm taking a step back."

"Just you wait."

~~~~

Randy didn't like arguments, and while it hadn't been a major one, Victor was still a little frosty afterwards. The dominos started falling into line, and Victor cheered up, but Randy only knew he was totally forgiven when, during an interview with the Sun while they were promoting in the UK, he'd been mentioned. The interviewer asked Victor the age-old question of who'd inspired him to be a wrestler, and Victor answered with his usual, "I wanted to be Rey Mysterio or Mystico. They were so cool, I really wanted to be a luchadore, but then I grew way too big, way too fast, it didn't stop me trying though, but I saw sense after one too many cracked heads. I still wanted to be a wrestler though, and I trained really hard, and was lucky to be picked to train at FCW by the WWE."

"And then you had Randy Orton as your manager."

"I know. The best thing that ever happened to me. I feel so lucky to have him as a mentor every time I train, whether it's on the mats or in the gym, or even just talking to him. I'm the luckiest person on the planet."

"And you're not just saying it because he's sitting right behind me?"

"Oh no, I say this all the time, just ask anyone who knows me. It's so fantastic."

The rest of the interview had been the same old, same old but the smile he'd shot Randy when he answered the last of those three questions, it had been so warm and especially just for Randy that he not only knew he'd been forgiven but that he preferred being that rather than ever causing Victor a moment's upset ever again.

~~~~

Little Vince had been the right horse to back. It'd all come up smelling of roses, leather and gold. Randy said as much when he held Victor's arm up in triumph in the ring.

"I told you so."

"Yeah, you did. You were right."

"I always am."

"Wanna show me how right you are once we're done celebrating?"

"Any time you're ready."

They didn't hurry through any part of the celebrating, so it was two days later by the time they could actually do anything about that conversation.

Randy found Victor attractive anyway, and he wanted the belt like he'd never wanted anything else in his whole life, and the combo was hard to beat. Victor glowed with the belt. No wonder Randy used to have better sex when he was champion, he could easily imagine that general feeling extending to everything.

Randy had already taken the belt off Victor, who'd worn it as an actual belt all day, and reverently placed it on the bedside table. He was being far less careful with Victor's zip.

"You love that thing more than me."

"Yeah."

Victor laughed. "Well, as long as I know."

Randy took his time and delighted in Victor, in his freshness, and his happiness. It wasn't as good as being champion himself, but it oh so nearly was.

Randy slept deeply that night, comfortable with Victor's company in bed.

~~~~

The afterglow lasted. Victor was unbeatable, and it wasn't like Randy cheated on his behalf in more than a quarter of his matches.

It did mean people were constantly trying to find him, normally Little Vince to either complain about his conduct, normally with a laugh and a half-smile that told Randy that Little Vince was tolerating it for now but could well change his mind later, or trying to set up new matches.

On this particular day, everywhere Randy went he was told that Little Vince had been looking for him. Eventually, after about three days of this, just missed meetings and straight to voice mail messages, Little Vince caught up with him.

"Just the man I've been looking for. Can I have a word with you?"  
~~~~

Victor dumped his bags on the bed, and dumped the belt down on top of them. He was still too shocked to have much of a reaction other than a heavy weariness.

There was a letter on the pillow that hadn't been there when he left the room before RAW. He didn't recognise the handwriting, there was no way he could, because who wrote letters nowadays, but he didn't need to because there was only one person who would be leaving a letter for him.

Part of him wanted to rip the letter to shreds unopened, but more of him wanted to read it, just in case Randy was setting everyone else up and that this was all part of his plan. Victor knew it probably wasn't, but he had to know for sure.

The letter, on hotel headed paper, had no greeting. It just started.

"So I've just betrayed you.

I'm not going to apologise, not because I think what I did was right, I know it was wrong, but because it was the only thing I could do. They've given me a title shot. Not against you, but against Brady if he wins the belt from you, and I couldn't say no to that.

I'm probably going to lose. He's got height and strength on his side, even before we take age into account. And you're sitting there cursing me, because I've hurt you and it's probably all for nothing. That possibility, however slight, is worth it though.

You don't know it now, but this is the best time of your life. You're young, you've got the belt, and, even if you lose it, you're going to get more chances. I'm old and I don't get them anymore.

So, I'm not asking for your forgiveness, or even your understanding, because I don't think you'll get it, not for a long few years yet, I'm just telling you why.

Randy"

It had been a painful letter to write, not just trying to make sure Victor didn't see him writing it, or get suspicious of anything. He knew Victor wouldn't get it; he wouldn't have done if Ric had left him a letter, but he felt the kid deserved an explanation. He understood now what Hunter had probably offered Ric, and even knowing what he knew now, he still couldn't have forgiven Ric for agreeing to it.

Dave was going to want to kill him, because Dave never understood either, and he'd think that Randy was throwing away a sure shot on a thousand to one chance. But Randy knew he'd done the right thing, the belt might be his once again, and it had to be worth the cost.

~~~~


End file.
